A Terrible Affliction
by Pyreflies Painter
Summary: "How could I have missed this?" They were all looking at him, gauging whether they should catch him before he falls. The light filtering from the arch window outlined them in heavenly light. The Doctor took in a deep, deep breath. "An entire breed of super humans I have never known? And an entire new world?" He shook his head. "It's... amazing."
1. Prologue

**A/N: It's just one of those times when you have a sudden idea and you cannot get rid of it in your head. It's just one of those times when you just CANNOT get rid of the amazing things that can happen at this crossover. It's just one of those times when the things you love most come together. **

**So please forgive me. **

**I needed this... Or else I could've exploded.**

**So, a debriefing. This is a triple crossover between Doctor Who, Sherlock and the Infernal Devices. The rest, you guys can read on about. I just hope you like and _please_ if you find something wrong, please tell me! This is for improvement, and so I can make this ride as amazing and wonderful and entertaining as possible. Thank you. :)**

**Disclaimer: Not Cassie Clare. Not Mark Gatiss. Not Steven Moffat. Not the original creators of the Doctor. Not Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. :) **

**Book cover credits: The book cover has been created by me (I know, should have drawn something but cannot be bothered). :) However, photos of Matt Smith as the Doctor, Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock and Gaspard Ulliel as my appointed Will Herondale, were taken from the internet. I have photoshop_ed_ them for my own means, but I own the entire final image. Finally, I used certain brushes here that were downloaded off deviantart, not that they'll be too noticeable. **

**Now, the show starts. **

* * *

_**Prologue**_

The dart hit the board with a satisfying _thud!_, its arrowhead embedded dead centre of the target. "Oh hey Johnny!" the Doctor cried as he spied his companions' dart game from the blinking, beeping and booming control panel of the TARDIS. They were currently cruising through space as the Doctor thought out where they could head off to now. There were just so many _choices_. "Bullseye!" the Doctor gave him an approving thumbs up. John grinned and followed this with a victory dance.

Meanwhile, Sherlock scoffed as he rudely turned from the dart game, marched up the platform and collapsed onto a chair. He crumpled like some defeated child who didn't get the first prize in the science fair. _Sherly, that's just being a poor sport_, the Doctor shook his head, albeit aimlessly as the great detective is not easily swayed by outside opinion. He was his own world and it was running on his terms. And his terms _only_. The Doctor and John shared sympathetic smiles which Sherlock narrowed his eyes at. John broke off the detective's glaring with a subtle clear of the throat, preceded with a question, "Where to now, Doctor?" John left the dart board as he, too, made his way up the platform. At his question, the Doctor zoomed round his TARDIS controls and started flicking numerous switches.

The question hung in the air for a solid five minutes. Unbearable, it was.

"Oh, I don't know," the Doctor finally admitted after Scheherezad_ing_ his way through the unanswered question with surreptitious flicks of the buttons of the TARDIS controls. John pursed his lips in thought and understanding (ever so kind a doctor). Sherlock scoffed.

"Why don't you ever take us to the future?" the often aloof man asked. The Doctor sighed inwardly in weariness at the question. Hasn't he explained this a billion times? Sherlock has a great memory, hasn't he? "It can't be that terrifying! Surely crime rates couldn't have _decreased_. Recent developments in technology prove to be quite beneficial for wrongdoers. Just think Doctor!" Sherlock leaned forward, eyes all wide and sparkly. "Inventions that allow direct, unlimited and rapid access to bank accounts, CCTV footages, personal inventories and top-secret military nuclear warhead codes! The development of crime into something bigger like, oh, I don't know! Biomolecular crime! Yes! Perhaps in the future, murderers are perspicacious criminals which create nanobots which they can summon upon command to readily kill a person! Now, _that–_"

"Sherly," the Doctor shook his head and John cracked a smile at the edge of his vision. Sherlock scoffed at his nickname. When will he stop scoffing? His face will freeze if he keeps doing that. "I've told you many times already. I trust you, really. But, we can't go to the future because you surely would take something from it!" The Doctor parted himself from the controls and decided to whip Sherly into a good beating. He stood in front of him, like a 'cruel to be kind' parent lecturing a stubborn child. "Knowledge, however great, is always tempting. I met a boy once. His name was Adam Mitchell and he was tempted by knowledge. His head can open up to show his brain now," the Doctor looked down at the barely-paying-any-attention-consulting-nine-year-old. He was to add another important point when there came a _bleep!_ from the TARDIS.

They all turned towards the general direction of the sound. It was in the swivelling screen. "Oooh," the Doctor gravitated towards the screen much like how a child is captivated by a lolly store. He read the incoming data. "Mail!" He grinned at the four letter word. This was his candy. There was another _bleep_! and a footage of a decrepit church, framed with rain, appeared. Just among the motley rubble, the Doctor could make out a white card.

An invitation.

"What's that?" John asked, eyes squinting. The Doctor danced towards John.

"Our next destination," Sherly peeked around the Doctor to see the church.

You guessed it. He scoffed.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know, I forgot to explain why I chose Eleven. **

**Matt Smith is lovely, but really I love Nine best, then Ten after. But, Eleven made sense. He just... did. I find the goofy nature of _this_ Doctor perfectly complimenting the great detective. That, coupled with Watson's being a doctor, it's just fun to have two doctors, don't you think? Plus, eleven would set off nicely as I find him more crazy and childish. Plus, he'll work well with the ID characters! I just know it. He'll adore Henry. **

**So, I hope you like-y Chapter One. It's all short, for now. :D**

**Disclaimer: Not Cassie. Not Gatiss or Moffatt. Not Conan Doyle. Not the original creators of the Doctor. I am just me. A young girl venturing into the world of what-the-hell and seeking relaxation and a way of opening up her creations in the big world. Because she likes reaching into her imagination and burying herself in them.**

* * *

_**Chapter One**_

"Hold on!" the Doctor cried out as the TARDIS lurched sideways. Their arms shot out, hands grasping for anything to cling onto as the incredible blue box threw a temper tantrum._ Come on, we're only going to the 1800s in London!_ the Doctor sighed as his fingers found a knob. He grappled at it as the TARDIS trembled. Across from him, Sherlock and John were adapting very well to the situation. That is, if you call slipping every few times 'very well'. But they had been very reliable, despite the fact that they've only been with the Doctor for a month. It definitely has been a companionable month.

With a last hurl, the TARDIS stopped and wheezed. The Doctor nearly hit his head, but was fortunate enough to come out unscathed. On the other hand, his companions were on their backsides groaning. "We need some sort of safety line," Sherlock shook his head in disbelief. Beside him, John straightened and stretched his arm. "Carbon fibre safety lines. That should do the trick," leave it to Sherly for a great suggestion.

"But that would be boring!" the Doctor rebuked the proposal. Because it would be. Leaving Sherly to his thoughts and mutterings, the Doctor returned his attention to the swivelling screen. There they were. Parked just a hundred metres from the dilapidated church. Well hidden in the shadows. Perfect. "We're here!" the Doctor giggled as he darted parked the TARDIS. The groaning died out as he sprinted his way towards the doors. Behind him, John asked a question.

"Will we need to disguise ourselves for the 19th century Doctor?" the Doctor halted at the doors before pivoting around to answer the question.

"If you like," he grinned before throwing the doors wide open and stepping out–

Only to be rained on. The Doctor eyed the raindrops with distaste. _Blimey! Terrible weather..._ he shifted his eyes from the rain towards the general direction of the church. It was much, much bigger than he expected. Sharp spires piercing the dark sky. Gargoyles snarling down at him. In a way, the Doctor loved the romance of these slick, gaslit streets. Of monsters, stalking and killing. Of dark shadows flickering. It was the year 1878. The Industrial Revolution had ended, but Britain was still at incredible heights. Still powerful.

And this was the need to be careful. He surely doesn't want the Queen hounding after him again, especially after banning him. Behind the Doctor, the TARDIS doors opened and his companions stepped out. As the Doctor looked at them, he couldn't help but smile at the irony.

When the Doctor first found Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, no words could describe his surprise. He couldn't give himself an explanation for the possibility of fictional characters coming to life! They were just there, at a crime scene committed by another member of the Slitheen family. It had been an intimidating encounter with Sherly, but once they got to know about each other, the Doctor just knew he had to reveal the TARDIS and the universe to the great detective and his brilliant friend.

Still, he couldn't give himself an explanation for this. What's more is that they lived in the 21st century!

And that was why the Doctor was smiling. Look! The 19th century! Sherly just needed a deerstalker hat, but he hated those. The Doctor soon found out that it was Sidney Paget that drew Sherly with a deerstalker hat. The Doctor much preferred the trench coat and that lovely scarf. Sherlock was still wearing the coat and the scarf, but he had those fine Victorian gentlemen clothes on underneath. Johnny was dressed in a similar attire, except that his was a different colour and design. The Doctor ought to change, but universe knows how much he adored his bow tie.

"Alright Doctor. You've said we're in London..." Sherlock bounced as he looked around wildly, equally ready for adventure. Although, how had he ignored the devastating rain? John was scowling at them. "Let me think," Sherlock rushed forward towards a nearby poster and read it. He let a finger run through it, and soon proceeded to lick said finger. "Hmm... indian ink. Quite in healthy supply around... the 19th century? After the Industrial revolution, most likely. Of course, they had quite a lot of paperwork to write after all those factory accidents. So, definitely after the Industrial Revolution–aha!" Sherly's neck craned as he faced the sky, the raindrops splattering on his face. "It's hard to tell but the composition of the atmosphere is very dark and there is a strong stench of ashes and the air is unsavoury. However, there's not many fumes so I suppose that the Industrial Revolution is long over," his head snapped back towards the poster. "And that poster is an old promotion poster for the arrival of Cleopatra's Needle in London. Which occurred in the year 1878, January. Looking around and hearing the men's jovial tunes and drunken stupor," Sherly twirled in the rain, "that would put us in a time where men weren't shipped off to the Second Afghan War which occurs on the 21st of November. Therefore after Cleopatra's Needle and before the Second Afghan War in the year 1878. That, along with the weariness of the poster, narrows it down between April and June of 1878." His monologue ended and– not for the first time –the Doctor's mouth hung. Only _Sherly_ can do that. Finally, the Doctor found a mind to rival his. Was he happy about that? Yes, because Sherly is an intelligent, good person. "What?" Sherlock shrugged as the rain drenched him. He raised a sudden arrogant eyebrow. "I'm not wrong! My history is infallible!"

The Doctor shook his head. John sighed heavily. "I feel so stupid right now. H-how the _hell_ did you know how many months that poster has been there for?" John gestured weakly at the poster.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped in incredulity. "The creases–"

A shrill cry cut through the atmosphere and instantly, they ran towards the scream. It was a woman's.

They ran out of the alleyway and the church loomed up on the Doctor, the sharp spires threatening to fall. Thunder boomed and lightning cracked, outlining the church in an electric white glow. For a moment, the Doctor looked in astonishment, before hearing Watson's sharp cry. "Doctor!" the Doctor's head snapped towards John. His mouth opened for the second time that night which was more worrying than surprising.

But this deserved it.

There were three youngsters, no older than seventeen. Two boys and a girl. Bloodied and battered. The boys were holding heavenly blades– swords to which the Doctor is terrifyingly clueless on. They were protecting the girl. Protecting themselves from a twitching, whirring infernal device of a metallic body and malignant designs.

_Impossible_, the Doctor shook his head. Ahead of him, Sherlock and John were also gaping in silent confusion. No. It wasn't Cybermen. No, it wasn't even remotely close to Dalek technology. So _what_ was this?

"DOCTOR!" John yelled and the Doctor whipped his sonic screwdriver out. He pressed on the sonic and the infernal device halted. It froze, head stuck and shoulders slumped. At the neck joint, sparks flew. The three strangers watched as the device halted. In perfect synchrony, they turned to the Doctor. One of them, a boy with startling blue eyes, opened his mouth. He seemed ready to spout questions when the other boy, one with strange silvery hair, collapsed.

"Jem!" The girl cried out as she dropped next to him. The other boy swiftly sheathed their swords. Quickly, he swept up his injured friend and together, they hobbled towards the church. "No no no no no..." the girl's voice hitched in despair and John Watson darted forward, offering a helping hand. The boys ignored him, but the girl stopped in gratefulness. She led John towards the church, hot on the boy's heels. Sherlock ran after. Meanwhile, the Doctor stared.

"It's a run-down church," he shook his head. Of all the places, they go to a run-down church?

Sherlock heard him on the way. The detective turned towards him in confusion. "No, it's not. It's perfectly fine."

"_What_?"

Sherlock grinned. Ah, impertinence. "Your eyesight must be failing you Doctor."

"My eyesight is fine thank you!" The Doctor adjusted his bow tie, expression sour.

"Then you must know that it's in perfect condition then," Sherlock gestured towards the church with his gloved hand. "Look, lights and everything," the Doctor shook his head then turned.

For the third time, his mouth opened.

The church was no longer a pile of rubble. It was a great building. Great arched windows stared at him and grand double doors thrown open like wings. The gate was also thrown open, inviting him in. The rest disappeared inside and voices drifted from the great church. The Doctor stared.

_Impossible_, he thought before running after them, but not before noticing the white envelope that brought them here. He reached out for it, among the used-to-be-rubble-but-is-now-a-rose-bush. He read the note. It was in a familiar handwriting.

It was his, of course.

It said, _Stay here and learn_.

The Doctor shook his head. "I can't be that vague, can I? I'm not an enigma! Oh wait," he shrugged. "I am."

* * *

**A/N: Did you like it? :D I'm sorry if it's all a bit vague for now, but it'll all make sense! But, if you love the Doctor, the ID or the Sherlock, then I suppose we're all used to it. **

**The nature of the fanatic.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was planning to make this chapter _very long_, but then I thought that it's not time yet. Besides, a lot of stuff happens in this chapter. So, here we go. Hopefully, next chapter will be much longer. Actually, I'm much surer it would be, considering all the explanations and stuff.**

**Disclaimer: Not Cassie. Not Gatiss. Not Moffat. Not Conan Doyle. Have I missed anyone else to credit?**

* * *

_**Chapter Two**_

They had appeared out of the night, their sharp claws ready to dig into warm flesh. It had been following them for who knows how long, but all that had mattered was that they were in danger. Will, exhausted and bloody, thrusted his blade into the heart of the automaton. The automaton shook, like a real _human being_ would.

For a moment, he was disgusted.

He wrenched back the angel blade as the penultimate clockwork machinery sputtered out slithery fluid and sparks flew from its joints. It shook and it gave out, as if it took its last breath, before it fell to the pavement, kicking up a shower of water. "Run!" Will screamed to Tess and Jem, as the last automaton progressed towards them in a horrific slinking.

He ran backwards, a hand rising towards the warm blood trickling down his chest. The Shadowhunter bared his seraph blade at the automaton. The glow from the blade glinted off the talons of the demonic machinery. Glinted off the smooth metallic face. _It has no eyes_, Will thought as he saw the slits. _It has no eyes_–

Tessa screamed as the eye-less thing sprung at Will, claws sharp. The boy had only enough time to duck before the automaton could rip him into shreds.

_My turn_, Will lunged at the clockwork thing–

And missed.

"I missed," he whispered. The sheer impossibility of the situation let ice run in his veins. They've upgraded, and developed in stealth and danger. They're in danger. They're in _so_ much danger. Tess is in _so_,_ so_ much danger.

"Doctor!" there was a voice, unfamiliar but had a very distinctive trace of a cry for aid. Behind Will, he heard a pulsating noise. It vibrated and shook his bones. In an instant, the automaton froze in its steps. The clockwork machine died, like a pendulum clock slowly coming to a stop after ages of use. Of rusting and neglect. Sparks fizzed from the neck of the automaton and Will turned, simultaneously with Tess and Jem.

Three men. Three mundanes. Yet three perfectly strange people. Three people with enormous knowledge and experience. Especially the one with the strange device. Will deducted that it was responsible for terminating the automaton, and saving their lives. His eyes, were old and wise. Unusual in the midst of a young, fresh face.

He opened his mouth to ask, when Jem's knees buckled and he gave out. "Jem!" Tessa whimpered and Will's attention snapped towards his injured _parabatai_. He sheathed their angel blades before carefully– yet quickly –hauling Jem up. Will reserved little attention towards the strangers who came in their time of need, and concentrated on his mission to save Jem. He half-carried his best friend towards the Institute, the world around him slowly trickling away. Time seemed to stop and his pulse resonated in his ears. The following flurry of events developed a dream-like quality. He burst through the Institute, bellowing for Charlotte and Henry and _iratzes_.

"Come on Jem," Will rasped as Jem started slipping under his hold. The young Shadowhunter grunted as he kept his hold on his dear friend, wishing dearly for him to stay. "Come on," he proceeded on heaving Jem towards the infirmary–

A sharp hot pain shot through him. Like molten lead had ripped across his chest. He cried out, but he refused to relieve his hold on his best friend. Jem nearly fell out of his arms, but instantly there were other arms helping.

Will expected Tess or Henry or Gideon, but Tess was clambering up the stairs, wailing out for Henry and Charlotte who have begun to dash down them. Will turned beside him to find the other two men– the tall, lean one with the curly black hair and the shorter one with the kind face. Between, them they supported Jem. "Where to?" The shorter mundane queried. The taller one's eyes shifted around him as he assessed his surroundings.

The Shadowhunter pushed away all thoughts of mundanes being in an Institute and confidentialities and secrecies and stupid laws. He led the mundanes towards the infirmary, hand clutching at his injuries. Blood was welling up fast; leaking, like grass protruding through cracks. Charlotte, after listening to Tessa for the recount of their unfortunate night, screamed for Sophie and Gideon. Henry, in the meanwhile, offered to help the other two mundanes carry Jem. They declined the offer, the shorter one merely asking for medical supplies to be ready.

Will ignored the growing sense of confusion and devoted himself to getting Jem back to the infirmary and having _yin fen_ ready.

Finally, they arrived at the infirmary. Will let the mundanes and Henry get Jem on the bed before hobbling off (the bloody automaton broke his leg! His _leg_! He chopped up that certain automaton in pieces after that) at breakneck speed for the precious drug.

He dashed past corridors and turned sharp corners, severely bruising himself as he fetched up against the cold, hard walls. But he persisted and sprinted until he crossed dear _chwaer fach_, holding _yin fen_. "Cecy–?"

"This is for Jem, yes?" Cecily inquired, blue eyes intense. Her eyebrows were knitted together; she was worried.

"Yes–" Will just managed to breathe out before Cecily rushed past him, like a tiny whirlwind storming around the London Institute. He wasn't at all surprised that she paid no attention to his gashes, now dripping blood. He observed the crimson pool he had created on the carpet, already aware and certain of James' safety in Cecy's hands. Funny how Cecy cared more for Jem, but he really couldn't blame her. Not after 'deserting' them, as she had put it in an ardor manner.

He was about to return to the infirmary (blood loss is fatal) when he heard a shifting sound behind him. He whipped his head around at the noise. It was like two rocks grating against each other.

But there was nothing there, except for an angel statue. Will narrowed his eyes at the angel. It was unlike the angels displayed in any of the sacred Shadowhunter sites. But, after all, this was Charlotte's institute. She chooses what adorns the institute. Whether it be a picture of the Consul gracing the sitting rooms much like how the British mundanes honoured their queen. Or a statue of a weeping angel, shoulders mournful and wings perched forward.

Will spun around and marched back towards the infirmary, unaware of the peeking angel.

* * *

The Doctor was impressed.

He had been wandering around the great church, absorbing the information seeping out of the walls, the windows, the ceilings and the floors. This church was _odd_. In fact, this church shouldn't exist. He's crossed this church many times during his long lifetime, and he was utterly certain that it was just a burnt out, ramshackle church.

But it's not. In fact, one could even say it was palatial; from the garish colours of the stained glass windows, to the winking chandeliers and the ostentatious tapestry dangling from the high arched ceilings. But what's more is the sturdiness of the structure as if it was a fortress; the traces of an intended design, the marks of years of testing, the culture permeating through the recurring scenes. The Doctor stopped next to a tapestry. An angel floating over a lake with a cup and a sword. The recurring scene in this odd church. "It's a cult, isn't it Doctor?" Sherly asked beside him.

The Doctor _nearly_ jumped. He shook his head. "Nope," the response was not a lie, despite Sherly's doubtful glance. He knew very well the Doctor's rule number one. "It's not a cult. Rather..." the Doctor edged forward, fingers tingling as they reached up to touch the tapestry.

"What are you doing?" Once again, the Doctor _nearly _jumped. He and Sherly redirected their attention towards the boy with the blue eyes. The one ready to spout questions, but gave it up to aid his friend. The Doctor took notice of his healing condition. How his wounds seem to have begun healing instantly. Quite odd, at this era. "Well?" The boy asked, voice domineering.

Doctor let Sherly deal with imperious, for he himself was one. Sherlock walked forward in slow strides, letting the boy feel the magnitude of his presence. But the boy was unaffected, and at that, Sherly stopped. The Doctor's concern bloomed. "Sightseeing," Sherlock's cool eyebrow twitched up (it's cool because it always does it in such a superior, witty way). "Why are you asking?"

The boy's lips tugged up into a smile. He was well aware of the disingenuous underlay in Sherlock's tone. _Another witty boy. Excellent! _the Doctor tried not to grin as Sherly's smile faded. Instead, Sherly's eyes narrowed a fraction as the boy shifted his glances between them.

"Hm..." Sherly finally uttered. The boy stopped glancing. "Interesting... Welsh."

The boy's eyes widened... then anger encapsulated his blue-violet eyes. Way to go Sherly. You've angered him. "How did you know that?" his tone was equally angry.

The Doctor stepped forward, just in case Sherly forgot the delicateness required with time travel. "Oh please, it's so simple. Your skin is one-eight of a shade darker than the rest of the occupants in this _church_... suggesting you've spent some time elsewhere with plentiful sun. And your features has a slight Welsh accent to it, so I can only really suppose you're Welsh. But your reaction proved me right," Sherly smiled. The boy harrumphed indignantly. The Doctor took another step forward.

"Well now that you've had your chance to show off, I ask you to leave," the boy made a gesture for them to turn around and exit. Sherly and the Doctor didn't move. "I'd leave if I were you," the boy crossed his arms in front of him. "And don't even bother reminding me to be grateful for your help. I'm not that type of person."

"No," the Doctor didn't have enough time before Sherly jumped on the fragile-handle-with-care bandwagon. "You're the type of person with a troubled past. You don't particularly relate well with the people in this place, do you?" Sherly stepped forward, away from the Doctor's restraining hand. The Doctor wished he had more will to stop Sherly, but he was curious as to what Sherly deducted from the boy.

Surprisingly, the boy just stood there. He listened, "I suspect your past must be haunting you, stopping you from moving on. Your eyes, they're hurt. Moreover, you care for them. Very much so. That is most evident in your commitment to saving your friend, even if you've already broken your bones and hurt your body, you'd still carry him." Sherlock scoffed. "No. You're not the type of person to express gratitude because you're arrogant. But, you're the type of person to care silently and hide his true nature..." Sherly seemed to trail off and the Doctor smiled.

"Remind you of someone, Sherly?" the Doctor grinned. Sherlock threw him a furtive, abashed glare. No wonder he saw so well into the boy's soul. He himself shared it. The Doctor turned his attention back at the boy. He still stood there. "What's your name?"

"Will Herondale," Will didn't seem to expect the Doctor to march towards him and shake his hand vigorously, sending jiggling vibrations up their arms. Will's eyebrows knitted in confusion, but he immediately snatched his hand away as he saw the Doctor's sonic screwdriver pulsating his direction. "What's that?" Will's hand edged towards the sword at his belt. His tone carried confusion, anger and interest.

Interest. The Doctor was impressed. He held up the device, "It's a sonic screwdriver," he grinned. "It can do many things. Two of them is stop that _thing_ about to kill you and your friends. Another is assess your vital signs," the Doctor read the data and Sherly moved to read beside him. "You've healed considerably fast, considering you're just human. No wait..." the data from the sonic screwdriver was very odd. "Not _completely_ human. But with something else. Something unknown," the Doctor narrowed his eyes at Will. Will didn't say anything. Just stood there and looked angry. "You're body temperature when I shook your hand was also higher than normal average human temperature. What about that boy you helped Sherly? Was he the same?"

Sherlock shook his head. "He was cold. And that boy is very strange. His hair, such an unusual colouring. I suspect he's sick," Sherlock shrugged. "A weak immune system I su–" Sherly didn't get to finish his sentence. Within a fraction of a second, Will managed to do the following things; take out his sword, whisper _Uriel_, run and pounce on Sherlock, knock him on the ground and wrestle him.

"Don't talk about Jem like that!" Will yelled as he pressed on Sherlock's throat with an arm. The Doctor jumped in surprise this time. He was too fast. He didn't anticipate super speed. He briskly pocketed his sonic screwdriver as Sherlock and Will wrestled. Will certainly didn't expect a Glasgow kiss from Sherly. Will clutched his forehead painfully (because Sherlock's head butts are very painful) as Sherlock rolled them over.

"Sherly! Get off of him!" The Doctor commanded as Sherlock took his turn on choking the boy. Will, clearly vexed, kneed Sherlock in the gut before throwing a right hook to the detective's cheekbone. Sherlock's head shot to the side, before splaying his hand across the boy's face. "Oh! Guys!" The Doctor wasn't quite sure what to do. This was the first time Sherly ever got attacked– and fought back. The detective pressed a knee on the boy's chest before disarming him.

"No!" Will cried out as Sherlock wrenched the sword from him.

There it was. The sound of surprise.

Silence.

Will uttered something in Latin. The Doctor and Sherlock listened intently. "He's saying impossible," Sherlock shrugged and looked at the Doctor, knee still on Will's chest. "What's impossible?"

The Time Lord gave it a moment of thought. _No, it can't be_. Then, the Doctor let his sonic scan Sherly. He just realised it was the first time he ever did so. The pulsating green light reflected off Sherly's pale skin. He read the data. Sherly's eyes widened in realisation of the Doctor's doings. "You're exactly like him. Human," the Doctor's eyes met with Sherlock's which were a wide icy blue, "but not _completely_," Sherlock looked flabbergasted, the emotion emphasised by the fact that there was hardly ever any emotion on his face.

"Nephilim," Will pushed Sherlock's knee away and straightened. "You're Nephilim." He snarled out the word.

"Nephilim?" A new voice piped up and they turned towards the entrance of the corridor to discover Doctor Watson, arriving. John looked at Sherlock warily. He was kneeling on the ground, eyes wide open, but the rest of his features had cooled into nothingness. He clutched the sword heavily. "Sherlock?" John stepped forward, eyes filled with concern.

Sherlock took a deep breath in before turning towards Will. He stood up and pointed at the tapestry with the glowing sword. "In the bible, there are many interpretations of Nephilim. Which one is it? Something to do with warriors? Hm?"

Will seemed in conflict between responding and not... but eventually did. "Ezekiel, chapter thirty-two. Verse twenty-seven." Will smirked humourlessly. "Warriors."

The three– the Doctor, John and Sherlock –shared looks. "You have some explaining to do." The Doctor pointed at Will. This was bad. Very bad. And what's more is that the Doctor had no idea what a _Nephilim_ was. Sherlock was in danger. In a _lot_ of danger.

"Will? Will, Jem needs you," another voice appeared, this time female. The group of men turned towards her. She was tiny, almost the height of a little girl. But in her face was determination, in her eyes were strength. The woman's sparkling eyes turned towards Sherly and the sword he held. She gasped. A small hand flew up to her mouth. "What..."

"Charlotte," Will cleared his throat, "can explain to you what we are," the boy and Charlotte shared a nod before Will moved to reclaim his sword from Sherlock. Sherlock returned it and the boy paid them no farewell as he ran off and vanished. The Doctor's eyes were trained on Charlotte as she looked Sherlock up and down. The detective didn't remotely care. He was focused on the tapestry. John, on the other hand, was much, much more worried.

The Doctor sighed inwardly before introducing himself. "Hello, I'm the Doctor," he grinned as he shook Charlotte's hand. The woman was stunned with his optimism, but nevertheless returned the friendly gesture.

"Doctor who?" she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Just the Doctor."

She nodded, lips pursing. "Charlotte Branwell, this way gentlemen." Charlotte sneaked a quick peep at Sherly before escorting them away from the corridor.

* * *

**A/N: Was I OOC for Will? For Sherlock? I deeply fear I had been. I would've made Will more snarky, but after CP I just cannot find it in me so much anymore. He will be snarky, but not too snarky. Or else he and Sherlock will... well they'll kill each other! And I'm not sure if I got Sherly (I keep calling him Sherly now! Haha!) right too. Ugh! **

**Oh, and I just had to make Shadowhunter Sherlock. Because no one in their right mind had done so yet. I will though! I will write a short story about it! And he and John shall be parabatai! I've always loved Sherlock, since 2009 when the first BBC episode aired. And I've always loved detectives (since I was 8/9!). For that, I have to thank Detective Conan most. :)**

**How about you? When was your first encounter with super-sleuths? **

**Well, bye-bye for now. **


	4. Putting the pen down

**A/N: Dear readers of this fanfiction. I believe I arrive with grave news.**

** I will now be unable to continue this fanfiction. My sole reason for this is because I am leaving fanfiction and thus will now be unable to continue this story. I have decided long ago that it is time to put the pen down. I believe that I have fulfilled my time here in fanfiction as a writer, and I would very much like to expand my abilities in another subject. Please accept my sincere apologies, especially those who are excited for the ultimate direction this fanfiction was taking. I like it very much as well. However, I simply cannot continue. A writer must know when enough is enough.**

** I would like to thank all those who have read, reviewed, story favourit_ed_ and alerted this fanfiction. Thank you so much for your support and I'm sorry for being unable to continue this fanfiction.**

** Pyreflies Painter.**


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